


I am Telbun. I understand

by Astronut



Series: CrackShips [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: New Jedi Order Series - Various Authors
Genre: Challenge: Crack Pairing Celebration, Crack, F/M, Odd Legends Era Mating Habbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronut/pseuds/Astronut
Summary: The thoughts of one of Viqi's Telbuns during Jedi Eclipse.
Relationships: Viqi Shesh/Telbun
Series: CrackShips [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708726
Kudos: 2





	I am Telbun. I understand

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not repost without permission.

I am Telbun. I understand.

I walk the halls of the Senate, invisible to all, trailing after my mistress. My heavy starched robes are hot and stifling, reminding me that I am doomed to my own private hell. The weight of my large cylindrical hat forces me to keep my head slightly bowed at all times. My mistress strides in front of me in her loose flowing gown, her head held high, her black hair streaming after her. As she passes a nearby window, her inky black hair catches the evening light, reflecting in sparking shades like stars and casting shadows deeper than space itself. 

In the moment it takes for my mind to make this comparison, her senatorial gown carelessly catches and knocks over a priceless Quarren crystal vase. Thrusting my hands from their place folded in my robes, I snatch the vase from destruction and return it to its proper place. Gazing down, I find my hands now trickling with blood, scraped by the rough-cut crystal. Mournfully, I fold them back in my sleeves and hurry to catch my mistress. It is my job to cater to my mistress, no matter the personal cost. I am telbun. I understand. 

The Kuati have used telbuns for centuries. In a society built on cultivation of power, it is necessary to circumvent the only power they cannot garner and control: love. Their children are not born, they are bred. When a young woman comes of age, her father might purchase her a telbun. That telbun is culled from the middle class. Genetics, education, skills, manners, these things all factor into the price. From this union, a child will be produced, raised to understand the aristocrat as their sole parent and their telbun as their caretaker. 

For my mistress, mere power over a slave sworn to love her was not enough. Why have this meager power when you can have more? I am not Kuati. Instead of money to support my family, my price bought the neutrality of my planet. Why have a middle class nobody to command, when you can have a world’s hero at your beck and call? That I am a slave instead of my planet does not concern me. I am telbun. I understand. 

I was surprised to learn that my mistress wanted me. Although I am the son of an Imperial General and an agricultural processing heiress, my genetics aren’t refined. Even my parents didn’t want me, so I was sent to the Academy. There I learned the etiquette now so essential to my mistress’ pride. And the art of killing. But she has not asked me to utilize that particular skill. She has her other telbun for that. 

While most Kuati only have a single telbun, my mistress has two. To the outside world, she is a rich Senator demonstrating her power and wealth. But when we arrive at her chamber, the other telbun is already dressed in concealing robes of black. Even his eyes, the only part of him that is visible, are of the darkest black. Tonight it is my turn to entertain our mistress, but I know as I watch him depart into the night that it is he that is truly pleasing her this night. I am telbun. I understand. 

In the morning, my body aches and part of me wishes for a dip in a nice, warm bacta tank to ease my suffering. The other part of me thanks with every breath the doctor who, so skilled with cloned tissue, enabled me to feel and rejoice at every stimulus my mistress gives me, no matter how pleasurable or painful. It is this feeling that I am ashamed of and it eats away at my gut. 

I am not ashamed of tailing after my mistress as she strides to and from between the Senate and her chambers. This is not new. I have tailed quietly behind others most of my life, keeping them out of trouble while I get into it. I am not even ashamed at loosing my name to my new Kuati Possessive Title. This isn’t new either; I haven’t exactly used my given name in awhile. No, my shame comes from investing emotionally in my mistress. I will only be hurt in the end, thought that is not new either. I am telbun. I understand. 

She leaves the Senate chambers to the calls of the holoreporters shouting “Viqi Shesh! Over here! Senator, give us a smile!” Obediently, I wait a ways down the corridor, watching, allowing her a few moments to absorb the power she leeches from the attentive mob. Then I move into position, trailing her once more. This time, when we reach her quarters, she turns and meets my eyes. This is my permission to speak. 

“It could have gone better,” I comment sadly. 

“No, my sweet pessimist, everything went just right. I have the Senate eating out of my hands. All I need is that buffoon Bothan and that witch Organa Solo out of the way, and everything will be mine.” Caught in the rapture of her power gathering, she kisses me roughly through my veil. I feel the course material rub against my lips as saliva slowly soaks through the cloth. I respond, doing my best to kiss her back with my senses so limited by the meters of cloth I wear. I do it to please her. I am telbun. I understand. 

When she dismisses me in favor of her other telbun, I slip out into the streets, still wearing my robes. Invisible to the all those who understand telbuns, mainly the residents of the upper levels of Coruscant, I enter the small tapcafe unnoticed with ease. Working my way swiftly through the busy tables, I duck into the refresher. It is already occupied by another man, his dark hair greying at the temples. “I bet you need a refresher course just to finagle those robes in here,” he jokes. 

“Ha ha. Very funny. Listen, Senator Shesh is the one who informed the Vong about the trap at Corellia. She’s also been using her other telbun, known as Shesh Viqitel, to control and manipulate the Peace Brigade. I think she’s planning a meeting with somebody big from the other side sometime in the next few days. I can’t believe that suspicious, conniving Bothan was right about her.” 

“Good work. I’ll get that information to people who can make good use of it. Try to find out what you can about that meeting, but don’t blow your cover. We’ll pull you out soon enough, and when we do, you can take a nice vacation. I know you’ve been pulling the nasty jobs of late, first watching Han and now this, but I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else. Thanks Hobbie.” 

He claps a hand on my shoulder, and even through the layers of cloth, I can feel that there is a power even Viqi Shesh cannot conquer: friendship. “Don’t worry about it, Wedge. I am telbun. I understand.” 

The End


End file.
